The Arcane Flight
by Layla T-Rex
Summary: The dark side has won. Hermione Granger is Draco Malfoy's prisoner, but she's not a little girl anymore, and nothing is the same. And she's not going down without a fight.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N : This story is complete and more will be posted as I edit and tweak it. Please rate and review. Let me know what you think!**

**The Arcane Flight Part One**

The door opened with a loud bang, hitting the stone walls ungracefully. Black boots entered the room, directly in line with Hermione's vision as she lay on the ground. She didn't move, just watched several pairs of feet as they entered the small, stifling cell to which she had been unceremoniously confined for what seemed like years.

"Leave." The voice was commanding. The others rushed to get out, closing the door with a whoosh behind them.

She knew that voice. The man crouched, his dark boots different from the knee length ones of the others. "Granger." He said simply, no expression in his voice.

Hermione lifted her head from where it lay pressed against the stone floor. It was him, alright, she thought. His pale skin and hair shone with a healthy glow, his black clothing was as impeccable as ever. Hermione felt nothing. She lay her head back down, opting to stare at the grey of the stone instead of the grey of his eyes.

"Get up." He said, sighing as though he had been arguing with her for hours when in truth he'd only made one command thus far.

Hermione struggled to her feet, using the wall to pull herself up. After the last bout of the cruciatus curse, it had been difficult to rise off the ground. Her chest ached ferociously, as did the rest of her. Her tormentors had left her alone for a few days afterwards to recuperate so she wouldn't die prematurely. When she was on her feet, she was suddenly aware of her torn robes, of which mainly the sleeves remained, leaving her clad in shorts and undershirt. Her body was not too emaciated because she had been forced to eat. Hermione assumed this was so that her mind and body would not give way before they could extract every little morsel of information out of her.

Draco Malfoy stood as well, his black robes falling back into place. He'd grown into his long and lanky form in the last few years she noted. Even his hair was different. Hermione looked away from him, uncaring. She could feel his gaze on her, however. It was different from before, when she'd been in his home with his crazed aunt's eyes gleaming as she pointed to Hermione, asking Draco for confirmation of her and Harry's identities. Back then, his eyes been deathly afraid and he'd even looked sickly. She remembered that he'd not sold them out, whatever their differences had been. He'd been slimy but perhaps not wholly irredeemable. Now he appeared grim but well-off. She wondered if things had gotten better for him then. In comparison, she probably looked a fright in her torn robes with scarred and bruised body.

After a few minutes, he spoke again, his voice lacking any expression once more. "Come with me."

Hermione wondered if they were finally going to kill her. Maybe she'd be killed ceremoniously by Voldemort himself. No, they wouldn't make it that easy. They'd have to play with her first, toss her around. A simple death wasn't going to be in her luck. She was Harry Potter's best friend after all. Maybe she could find something sharp as she followed him and stab herself before they got to her...

The thought fled her mind as she took her first step forward and stumbled back on to the ground, grazing her knees. A gasp escaped her lips and Malfoy turned to her from where he stood in the doorway, facing the hall. He pointed his returned wand to her, and with a ceremonious wave, she felt her limbs become as light as air as she was propelled to her feet thoughtlessly. Another flick and the grazes on her knees began to vanish. Superficial cuts heal easily.

She had an urge to say thanks, but stopped herself. The time for manners had long fled. Despite his clean and refined appearance, Malfoy was probably the same hypocritical coward he'd been the last time she'd seen him.

"Come." He said again with surprisingly no annoyance present in his voice. She found herself wondering what had happened to him. He should have been swaggering by now, but he wasn't. Instead, he walked swiftly with a determined step.

After that, Hermione followed him with relative ease through the traitorous halls of the building she had been kept in. Eventually they entered a room with bright walls, a desk with a cushy chair, walls of cabinets and shelves of books. A man with greying locks, a dimpled chin, and spectacles perched on his nose peered up at them. Hermione stood beside Malfoy.

"Thanks, Prewett, that will be all." Malfoy said lazily. He reached for a package, from which he retrieved plain black robes. These were handed to Hermione, who stared at them dumbly and did not take them.

"I didn't purchase them. They're given to all the prisoners who are leaving the premises," Malfoy informed her dryly. "So unless you'd like to walk out dressed like that, you may as well put them on."

Hermione still did not take them. She looked at her toes, mind coming alive after what seemed like an eternity of battling emotions, pain, and isolation. She had a feeling she was unfortunately not going to be visiting the grave today. What was going on?

Malfoy spared her a fleeting glance that revealed he was unsurprised by her stubborn, if silent, refusal. She then felt a rope bind across her wrist and tie into a knot. Showing no outward signs of surprise, Hermione glanced at her arm and saw nothing on either wrist. Looking up at him, she saw his raised wand. He lifted an eyebrow and turned on his heel. "Standard procedure." He murmured. The invisible rope tugged her forwards through the halls after him. Many witches and wizards were traversing the same halls, dressed in white robes and looking thoroughly unsurprised at their presence, nor at her dishevelled appearance.

At last, a lift took them into a plain foyer. The doors revealed a bright sunny day outside. Hermione's eyes hurt staring at it. She didn't know how long it had been since she'd seen its life giving glow. To her dismay, they didn't leave via those doors. Instead, they approached a fireplace where Malfoy grabbed floo-powder from an elegant cup and threw it into the fire. He stepped in with her, and said in a clear voice. "Grimmuald Place!"

They eventually landed in the fireplace of the sitting room in Grimmuald Place, which looked beyond recognition. The room was swathed in delicate new furniture in shades of dove grey, ice blue, and violet—a woman's touch. A stab of nostalgia shot through her as she remembered all the times, both happy and sad, that she'd had here. It obviously belonged to Malfoy, the last of the Blacks, now that Harry was gone. There was almost no trace of the past remaining in the four walls of the room she stood in. Hermione felt her throat tighten.

The tightness around her wrist dissolved to her relief, as soon as they stepped out of the fireplace. Malfoy didn't seem to know what to do with himself. He crossed the room to the windows and peered out at the square outside, paced the room a few times only to stop and stare at her intensely before crossing to the hall from which Mrs. Black's portrait had clearly been removed somehow (for she made no racket upon their entering). Finally, he turned to her and opened his mouth to speak, only to promptly shut it again and stare at his boots. This was a completely different man from the cool and composed statue she`d seen earlier.

Hermione stood uncomfortably, not bothering to hide the fact that she was staring at him anymore. She fought the feelings threatening to burst past the barrier she'd built in her mind for self preservation with all her might, and finally beat the moisture pooling in her eyes. She'd tried her hardest to shut down her emotions without getting broken in there, and she'd succeeded. Broken humans were not like this, not like her. But nor was her spirit whole. It was splintered, it was different. She would never be the same.

"Sit." He finally said, still staring at his boots.

Hermione still kept her eyes on him, but sat on the plush sofa behind her nonetheless.

"Kreacher." Malfoy called. With a _crack_, the wizened old elf appeared. He looked at Hermione and a barrage of softly muttered curses were expelled from his mouth before he clutched at the locket around his chest (one which the Malfoys had not been able to remove despite all the efforts done to do so), and actually twitched towards her.

"Master Malfoy, what can Kreacher do for you and Ms. Granger?" Kreacher asked.

And that was when Hermione could no longer fight it. She burst into tears. Loud sobs escaped her lips. The two beings in the room froze, not knowing what to do as her body was wracked with loud ungraceful jerks and noises. She grabbed a cushion and hugged it to her as she cried and cried. Just minutes later, she wiped her cheeks and cleared her throat before regally raising her chin and staring at Kreacher.

"Mistress, might Kreacher help you by bringing you some soup?" Kreacher asked.

Now, a giggle escaped Hermione's lips. Malfoy appeared horrified and Kreacher's expression never changed. The elf's change in attitude had been her undoing. That there was this tiny thread of something familiar, that there was some creature that had once treated her with disdain now offering her comfort was enough to break the dam which had kept at bay all the emotions.

Malfoy seemed to have found his voice. "Kreacher, soup would be fine for the mud...for Granger."

While Kreacher left to bring Hermione soup, Malfoy took a seat in an armchair where he could keep his eyes on her. Hermione stared at the cushion on her lap and did not move an inch until Kreacher appeared once more, breaking the silence. He placed a tray with a bowl of hot soup and thick crusty bread before her. A simple glass of water accompanied it. He bowed and dissaparated.

Hermione did not wait to be asked. She reached for the spoon,took a mouthful of hot creamy soup, and then positively groaned. It wouldn't be too good to get used to such a comfort though. She had no idea what she was doing here. Yet every last morsel that had been placed before her vanished off her plate. Pushing the tray away, she looked up at Malfoy. He was staring at his hands, as though uncomfortable.

Upon noticing she was finished, he summoned Kreacher to remove her tray, and then finally spoke to her. "Would you like a change of clothing now?" He asked in his serious and very un-Malfoy-like voice.

"No." Hermione replied.

Draco merely nodded. "As you wish. Now, you're probably wondering what you're doing here." He gestured around him

He seemed to want a response, so Hermione nodded. She didn't wish to speak. Not to him, not to anyone.

"You're here, simply, because this is your last chance." Malfoy said, no hint of expression in his voice or face. Where was that foolish Malfoy pride? She wondered. She supposed they really weren`t children anymore. Although this did not suppress her longing to call him `ferret` just to goad him into replying with something childish back.

"They have tried all sorts of methods to get you to speak, as you're obviously aware..." Malfoy continued smoothly

"And now they're using you?" Hermione asked a little incredulously, before she could stop herself.

Malfoy managed a tight smile. "They've tried the stick; I guess they wanted to use a carrot. I didn't have the heart to tell them that despite my having been a classmate of Granger's, she would under no circumstances speak to me. You're not stupid; you know they're going to kill you."

"I guess you know me better than your friends." Hermione said, feeling as though this was the most bizarre conversation she'd ever had in her life. "So why are you trying?"

Malfoy shrugged. "I wanted to."

"Eager to finish off the rest of my lot?" Hermione asked, feeling anger welling. It was an emotion she thought she'd never be able to feel again once she'd finished clawing at her own skin in the cell. At first she'd felt such rage towards her captors and torturers, but eventually she culled it. She`d had to in order to remain sane. She'd shut off.

"You're not the one interrogating, Granger." Malfoy said simply. Hermione wasn't stupid. She didn't lower her gaze from his, but she shut up. He had the wand; she had the fists of an imprisoned petite female.

"I'll ask you simply: where are Arthur Weasley and the remaining members of the Order?" Malfoy asked in a bored voice.

Hermione smiled bitterly. "I don't know." She replied stiffly. They'd already tried everything, so she didn't know what this prat felt he could do. "I'm sure you are aware that veritaserum has been used upon me numerous times and nothing was gleaned from those sources. The cruciatus curse resulted in nothing as well."

"There are instances, ways which the effects of veritaserum can be avoided, same with the cruciatus." Malfoy replied, eyeing her closely. "For instance, one might carry an antidote at all times, or be adept at occlumency."

"I am a sufficient occlumens, but even I couldn't withstand torture and protect the secrets of my mind for long." Hermione said matter-of-factly. "It is simply a fact that I know nothing."

"Perhaps we've been asking the wrong questions," Draco murmered. He reached inside his robes and pulled out a glass phial filled with clear fluid, which he handed to Hermione. She gazed at it emotionlessly before swallowing the contents. Dimly, she wondered if she could be fast enough to kill herself with shattered glass before he could point his wand out and stop her. The fleeting thought left her and she placed the phial on the table in front of her before returning her gaze to the pale man across from her.

"Ask me anything." She said sardonically. "I promise to answer truthfully."

Malfoy chuckled wryly. "Who was the last member of the order you spoke to?"

"Ginny Weasly," Hermione answered in a clear voice, not even bothering to resist. She did not even know the basics of occlumency, but Malfoy didn't need to know that. As long as that led him away from the real reason she couldn't tell him anything, she was happy.

"Where did you meet her?"

"In the Forbidden Forest, before she took a portkey away."

"Why the Forbidden Forest?" He asked.

"It's not a place anyone expects a person to enter these days." Hermione replied.

"Where did she take the portkey to?"

"I don't know." She replied.

"Why didn't they tell you?"

"I don't know."

"Okay, but why do you think they didn't tell you?" He asked with a tinge of annoyance in his voice.

"She was going away, the less people that knew the location, the better...I think." Hermione replied, feeling a tinge of fear. He certainly was asking a lot of questions she hadn't been asked before. The others had demanded answers and asked broad questions. They`d just pointed their wands and slashed her skin, made her suffer through had not probed, had not been fussed to. They'd been more interested in watching her scream. Malfoy was trying to create a mental picture of what she did know, in order to scrape together the gaps, she realized.

"Who else was there?" Malfoy questioned.

"I don't remember." Hermione replied, her voice now shaking. She had never expected to be interrogated so thoroughly, whereupon the gaps in her plan could be seen. She thought she'd just be tortured and when it was clear she couldn't speak, she'd be left alone or killed. Not this careful interrogation where she was treated like a human being. This, she hadn't expected.

Malfoy frowned. "You remember being there, but don't actually remember who was there?"

"Yes," Hermione, said, shutting her eyes tightly.

Malfoy stared at his hands for a moment, thinking hard. Then he looked up, eyes bright. "Were you obliviated?"

"Yes." She whispered. She knew this, and therefore had to confirm it. When she'd come to after she'd been unconscious, there was a letter for her on the floor beside her. The handwriting on the note had been her own.

_Hermione,_

_Certain things regarding the order were erased from your memory; enough to be credible without leaving a huge gap in your memory._

_The deatheaters are coming for you. Burn this._

"By whom?" He asked curiously. He appeared excited, clearly having stumbled across something that no one had before, and so easily too. The others had ditched veritaserum after the fifth failed attempt at getting information. After that, it was just torture. Hermione felt pure loathing for this man seated across from her.

She closed her eyes once more. "I'm not sure," She replied. It was the truthful answer to that particular question. But if he asked a different one...

"Who do you _think_ did it?"

"I think I did." Hermione replied in a quiet voice. Only she could have done such an intricate job in her memories. She'd erased vital pieces of information without leaving a gaping hole in her memory. Another person couldn't have dealt with her mind so efficiently.

His grey eyes widened. "That would have been complex magic, erasing so meticulously." He then looked at his watch and sighed. "Time's up."

Malfoy stood, smoothed down his robes and walked to the fireplace. "Take whichever bedroom you like, Granger." And then he threw some floo-powder into the fireplace from his own pouch.

Feeling the effects of the potion wearing off, Hermione stood and fumed. "Haven't you done enough?" She screamed, enraged. She saw red. "Why don't you just kill me? You aren't going to get any information from me. There's nothing else you can do!"

Malfoy simply threw a curious glance at her, as though she was a misbehaving cat that had surprised him in its antics, and then stepped into the fire. "Malfoy Manor," He said.

Then he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Please Rate and review! I'll be updating often. :)**

**The Arcane Flight Part 2**

After he disappeared, Hermione threw a vase at the fireplace. Her chest heaving, she stared at the glass and then slumped back on to the sofa. Kreacher, having heard the commotion, came in to clean up. Hermione felt ashamed instantly as she watched the elf.

"I'm sorry, Kreacher," Hermione said in a tremulous voice. She was just so angry. How could she have foolishly believed that she had saved her friends? Now Draco Malfoy had made it his personal goal to probe her slowly until he got something from her. Forcing herself to breathe, she reminded herself that he couldn't get anything of too much importance. Knowing herself, she'd have made it impossible for those memories to be retrieved. She knew that erased memories could be retrieved if one was a sufficient leglimens, based on what Dumbledore had told Harry in sixth year.

She'd wondered if she could ever permanently erase memories after she'd heard this and done some research in the Hogwarts library. What if she ever had to do such a thing on their journey to get rid of Voldemort's Horcruxes, she'd wondered. The theory was to obliviate the mind, then tie the knots where the memories fit in by a set of complex spells. She would have done that, she told herself. She was impressed at her skill, however, for she'd managed to erase specific things—a meticulous thing to do indeed.

She remembered being informed—though by who, she could no longer recall, that they were coming for her, and she couldn't recall what she did after the gripping fear had led way to a strong determination. Then she`d been caught and time became one long stretch of pain, suffering and a deep abyss full of her own thoughts. She'd had time to relive the horrors of the war, the death of her loved ones, the demise of the wizarding world. And every other little memory that she'd tried to bury.

Hermione stood and walked out into the hall, to the kitchen. She felt like bawling her eyes out as she stared at the long polished table. That hadn't been replaced, she noted. The ghost of Harry waved back at her, a memory. He'd gone on, where ever that was. The dull memories of a summer spent scrubbing this place down and fighting the very house itself trickled into her mind. Oh, they'd all been so positive then. So strong. And now, now she'd erased any knowledge of whoever was alive. She had no idea who was still out there, fighting for survival.

'C'mon Hermione,' Harry would have said. 'Don't give up.'

She shut her eyes and placed her hand on the doorway. What was left to fight for? She wondered. Harry had died. Fred was dead, so were Tonks, Lupin, and numerous nameless souls. And the rest of the Order—where were they? Finally she opened her eyes, not really seeing the room before her. Hermione took a deep breath and sat at a chair, crossing her fingers on the table. A billion thoughts swirled around in her head. And when the mess cleared, there was a flicker. It was hope. She was Hermione Granger. She was strong. But she was so, so tired. Her brain hurt, and when she asked Kreacher the date after she summoned him a few minutes later, she was mortified that she'd been in the cell for six months only. She was sure it had been two years. But here she was at nineteen. Well, that was nice. She'd been thinking she was twenty.

"Kreacher, what were Master Malfoy's orders for you with regards to me?" Hermione asked gently.

"Master has told Kreacher that Ms. Granger must not be allowed to leave the house. Kreacher must provide food and drink for Ms. Granger, but no objects with which she might harm herself or others."

"What about you? Are you allowed to leave?" Hermione questioned eagerly.

"Yes, Kreacher is allowed to visit his friends at Hogwarts or go for supplies and other necessities."

"Kreacher, what If I told you that it was a necessity for you to apparate with me somewhere?" Hermione asked carefully.

Kreacher gave her a cold look. "Kreacher would have to tell mistress that he can't allow her to leave the house." With a crack, the elf vanished from where he stood upon the tiles of the kitchen floor.

Hermione banged her head against the table. She had thought there would be no hope left in her, that there was no reason to fight anymore. In any story she'd read about imprisonment, torture, and war, the victim was too traumatized to even eat. Hermione had shut herself off for the most part, and felt as though she was finally waking up, though she was hardly the broken shell of a woman she was supposed to be. She was not the same, she'd never be. She was transformed, but she'd kept sane through it all, and now that dingy old cell was history. Malfoy was the key to staying away from that cell , in fact. She'd have to do something to ensure that.

It would be easy to shudder at the horrors that had been inflicted upon her and spend the rest of whatever life she had left to her as a pathetic, cowering and weak thing. But Hermione reminded herself who she was, who she had been, and she felt pity for those who did what they were forced to do to her body and mind. They were pitiful people who were stuck following a man, a monster, who didn't know that the love and strength Dumbledore valued, truly was the strongest force in life. And so, Hermione kept the love alive inside her. She wouldn't die a weak and pathetic creature, she'd die strong and capable of love, not weak and broken. That's what had kept her sane all these months, what had kept her alive in the year and a half that Voldemort had emerged from the forest with Harry's dead body.

Deciding that it would not do to overburden her mind that night, Hermione made her way back into the now comfortable sitting room and sat in the sofa. She refused to sleep, however, and even if she wanted to, she doubt she could have. Her mind was too awake, her nerves suddenly alive again. Instead of sleeping, she cleared her mind and focused on her breathing. She was afraid if she slept, she`d remember the beatings, the blood, and most of all their faces as they inflicted harm upon her.

Malfoy came without warning. The first signs of day had caught Hermione's attention—the pearly glow through the cracks in the curtains, the patter of raindrops against the window, the whisper of the wind. With a sudden burst, he stepped out of the fireplace and wiped himself off before glancing at her. Hermione had been stretched out on the sofa all night and immediately upon his entrance, she sat up stiffly and placed her feet firmly against the ground. She met his gaze proudly.

Malfoy smiled, a hint of his former spectacular smirk revealed itself in its depths. "I see that you've stopped finding the floor immensely interesting when I look at you. I also see that you've calmed down some since last night."

Hermione shrugged. "If you can avoid the cruciatus curse by avoiding looking into the eyes of a deatheater, why not choose to look at the floor instead? You know those deatheaters, they're just so easily riled by a pair of eyes."

"What makes you think I won't perform the cruciatus curse on you?" He asked, taking a seat in the same chair he previously had. This time, he stretched his body so that his boot-clad feet rested on the coffee table. Hermione wished she could hex those darned black boots off.

"I was under the impression that those methods had been tried already and had obviously failed." Hermione replied caustically.

"Right. Well, I may just do it for fun. You know us deatheaters, we love to punish people for being mudbloods." Malfoy shrugged.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Go ahead. I won't even try resisting. Resistance just makes it worse."

Malfoy's eyes widened. He opened his mouth and promptly shut it again, a move that she found made him look like a baffled fish. "I, um, will avoid resorting to such methods."

Hermione found herself smirking. She could read Malfoy like a book. She always had been able to, and the more Harry, Ron and she had run into him throughout their school years, the easier it had been to read him. He was all talk; this much hadn't changed. The difference between them was that she wasn't all talk, and she had definitely changed.

Deciding that it was probably better for her to avoid any more small talk, she shut up and stared at the wall in front of her. She had always been careful, if nothing else, after all.

Malfoy used the silence to summon Kreacher. "Make tea and whatever else Granger would like for breakfast."

"Toast and eggs sounds nice." Hermione said kindly to Kreacher, who bowed to Malfoy and went off to complete the task.

"Did you rest well?" Malfoy asked once Kreacher had gone, surveying her methodically.

"Yes." Hermione replied, still staring at the wall.

Malfoy suddenly held a daily prophet, which he opened and skimmed till he settled on something he wanted to read. Hermione was grateful for the lull and waited patiently for her food. She chewed calmly this time and savoured the flavours, pretending she didn't care that there was a piece of the outside world—namely the newspaper, in the room with her. Her prison-guards hadn't been too keen on warming up the nastily prepared mush they called food, so she focused on the flavour of what she ate. When she finished, she wiped her face and cleared her throat.

Malfoy's boots slid off the table as he put the newspaper away. Hermione tried not to eye the paper with too much longing and instead focused on the figure before her.

"I've done a lot of thinking," Malfoy began. "And there are some things to be considered."

"Such as?" Hermione edged. Malfoy merely raised an eyebrow. He flicked his wand and a phial of clear fluid appeared on the table. Hermione rolled her eyes and reached for it, swallowing it in a single gulp.

"Why did you not run like Ginny Weasley?"

"I wanted to do what I could for the Order." Hermione replied.

"What were you doing for the Order?"

"I gathered information. I was a researcher, and I helped with tactics, finance, and development."

"Have you ever slept with a woman?" Malfoy deadpanned.

Hermione was startled. "What? What has that got to do with anything. And no, I haven't."

He chuckled. "Just testing. I see. Still prudish as ever."

Hermione didn't feel the need to reply to that seeing as it wasn't a question, and his blatant attempt at sexually intimidating her made her want to roll her eyes.

ve

"What sorts of things did you research?"

"I don't know."

Malfoy raised a brow. "You have done a remarkable job at eliminating important information from your memory. But it's a shame, it's probably lost forever...seeing as no one else alive except you could have that information. Oh, dear..." He sighed.

Hermione swallowed, refusing to rise to his bait

Malfoy stood suddenly, startling her. He'd barely asked her anything. "Well, veritaserum is a waste of time. I'll be back shortly."

Hermione did not protest as he flooed back to his manor. She spent the time fretting about her answers to his questions, going over each one in her mind and considering what he may have learned from her response that wasn't obvious. She considered her options. What could she do? She had to try something. She just had to. In that cold cell, she had no options, nothing. Now, she could do something. Hermione Granger was not one to sit around doing nothing when something could be done, after all.

He returned half an hour later. When he emerged from the fireplace, he was not alone. A tall and rather thin man with rich black hair on his head and face dressed in immaculate dark green robes stood next to him.

"Is this the young lady?" The man asked, peering at her as though she was a disgusting eel he needed to detach from his body. Malfoy nodded and began examining his nails.

The black-bearded man barely lifted his wand as he said, "Incarcerous." Ropes shot out of the end of his wand and began wrapping themselves around Hermione before she could take more than two steps away. The ropes wrapped themselves around her waist, up around her neck, and back around until they encompassed her wrists. Like a vine, its ends slithered around her legs and bound her ankles together. Fully tied up, Hermione had trouble standing erect and had to slump against the wall.

"You git." Hermione acidly to a silent Malfoy who had sat down at a chair and returned to his daily prophet . "You complete and utter bastard."

"She still bothers with all this righteous anger and nonsense?" The strange man who still held his wand out at her asked.

Malfoy flipped a page with a rustle. "Shut her up if you like, Malvere. She's a Gryffindor after all..."

"Gladly." Malvere said in a bored voice, gagging her with a flick of his wand. Another swish, and Hermione was lifted off the ground horizontally and levitated to a long table that had appeared in the middle of the room. Her mouth was opened and a liquid flowed down her throat despite her best efforts to spit it out. The ceiling became hazy as her eyes flickered shut.

The last thing she heard was Malvere ordering her to be calm.

"This shouldn't take too long." He said as though he'd repeated the words a million times.

Hermione woke to the murmuring of voices. Her head turned groggily towards the source. A pair of heads, one black and the other blond, stood huddled. They spoke quietly, but Hermione could tell they were arguing. Upon flexing her wrist, Hermione realized she was no longer tied up. It took some effort, but she struggled up on to her elbows and lifted her legs over the table. When her feet hit the floor, both men turned sharply, mouths open in mid-sentence.

"Care to explain yourselves?" Hermione asked stiffly, crossing her arms across her chest. "It is my body after all."

"Don't worry, Granger, no one touched you unless unavoidable. When was the last time you had a bath anyway?" Malfoy asked, straightening himself and giving a pointed look to Malvere to shut up.

"Sometime last year." Hermione said, giving his spotless locks and robes a withering glare. "I haven't had the luxury."

"I suggest you take a bath." Malfoy said calmly.

Hermione wanted to scream at him that she didn't want to do anything he suggested, the bloody coward! But she took a deep breath and steeled herself. She had to put aside her enormous pride and work this situation as best as she could. "As you wish." She said, staring at the wall to help her stamp down the desire to claw at his stupid face.

Malvere bowed to Malfoy and spared a bemused glance for her. "I'm glad to have helped in any way that I can. I must be off, I have other patients to see." Malfoy inclined his head, but did not respond, as he was biting his lip and his brow was furrowed as if he was thinking deeply. Malvere looked relieved and rushed off.

Hermione's gaze was pulled away from the wall back to the blond haired, grey-eyed slytherin in front of her. "Patients? What does he mean? What did you do to me?" She demanded, forgetting that she'd just calmed down.

Malfoy ignored her and paced the room.

"Well?" She demanded once more.

Malfoy paused in his frantic pacing and stared at her. "A procedure was performed up on you."

"What sort?"

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Don't push it Granger. I indulge you occasionally with information because I'm trying the carrot instead of the stick to deal with you, but don't push it. And, are you going to take that bath or must I guide you to the bathroom and prepare it for you?"

And that was when her intelligent, carefully planned demeanour simply crashed as she literally saw red. "What on Earth have you done to me?" She looked down at herself.

"Nothing permanent. It was more like...a checkup of sorts."

"Give me details. Now." She fumed.

"I don't know the details. I was busy reading. I'm sure your brain and body are perfectly fine though. Rest assured, I didn't learn much ."

"What did you learn? What did you do to me?" She was horrified.

"Trivial things. Nothing of value." He admitted. "Now, please go take a bath."

She looked at him suspiciously. Why would he admit that to her freely? Was he mad?

Hermione raised her chin and glared up at him, but didn't push him anymore. She found a bathroom, one she hadn't used in her time at Grimmuald place previously, and scrubbed herself thoroughly. As much as she wanted to sink in and enjoy the luxury of water, soap, and shampoo, she did not tarry. Once she'd cleaned herself until she gleamed, she emerged from the bath feeling as though she'd wiped off a fully encompassing body mask with the soap. The water she stared down at certainly did not look clear. Hermione was pleased that it looked like murky pond water, not sewage.

Mortified, she realized she had no clothing, which would mean she'd have to ask Malfoy for help. She couldn't exactly put on what remained of her clothing after all. However, after she'd wrapped herself in a towel, a solution came to her. She summoned Kreacher and asked him for a change of clothing. He came back with plain black robes and women's under-things, which he placed haughtily before her and left promptly. Hermione put them on with a grimace, knowing Malfoy would have had them put in the house for her.

When she returned to the scene of the crime, the table was gone and so was Malfoy. However, upon wandering through the house she saw him seated at the table in the kitchen, nursing a cup of tea. She wondered what he'd say if she informed him that Sirius Black, the Weasleys, Harry Potter and pretty much all the blood traitors and members of the Order had eaten at that very table once upon a time. The slime-ball probably wouldn't like that much. She wasn't hasty like Harry though, and she sat down at the other end of the table. He looked up and his eyes widened.

"You're Granger after all. I was beginning to wonder if that was really you under that layer of dirt, but your hair was a dead give-away." Malfoy said with a familiar smirk. Hermione felt as though she was transported back to Hogwarts.

"Sod off, Malfoy." Hermione rolled her eyes.

Malfoy took a dignified sip of his tea before replying. "You need to be nicer to me. I am your interrogator after all."

Hermione snorted. "Alright, Sir." This was a joke.

Malfoy glared at her, but did not goad her any further—which made Hermione almost believe he'd grown up a bit. Almost. He finished his tea while Hermione demurely sat at the table, then took his leave, and left her alone. She waited until she heard his voice in the distance and the tell tale whoosh of the fireplace before she got up and ran up the stairs. It was time to search this house thoroughly.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Only one Reviewer so far! Please review. I don't get paid for this, so your thoughts/words mean a lot. :3**

**The Arcane Flight Part 3**

Malfoy didn't come back that day, or the next. Hermione took it upon herself to dig through the entire house. What she was searching for, she knew not. There were various items that intrigued her. She horded various sharp objects, a box that played music, knitting needles and other knickknacks. Feeling very much like Kreacher, who had tried to save useless objects from the house, she stowed them in the bedroom she'd shared with Ginny back in the day and gone back to the hunt. It was dark outside when she reached the attic. Up there was a hidden compartment in the wall and several loose floorboards. Harry, Ron and Hermione had come across them when they'd been forced to take items up for storage. However, knowing what the strange house was capable of, they'd steered clear and had barely glanced inside before rushing to get out of there.

She now approached the wall with trepidation, wishing she had a wand or some other object she could use to light the room up. Taking a deep breath she reached out and forced the compartment open, wondering if anyone had come across it in their cleaning up of the house. Inside, she saw various bottles filled with crimson, green, and gold fluids that she did not dare to touch—but which could come in handy if she ever wanted to poison Malfoy. She wasn't ready to go to such lengths...yet.

On another shelf, she saw jewellery (some of which she feared might be cursed), and so she avoided that as well. The shelf below that one possessed several metal artefacts she had no explanation for, but one of them gave a strange wail when she wiped it with the cloth she carried. She quickly moved on, seeing magical rope, one very pointy icicle that seemed frozen forever, a decapitated teddy-bear with beady red eyes, and a box of chocolates that seemed eerily preserved. She did not wish to touch any of these things, but she figured not all of them could be cursed, for then how would the person who hid them retrieve them?

The loose floorboards revealed very little of use as well, though none of it seemed dangerous. A bat or two came screeching out when she reached a hand in, and she stumbled across a bag of nosebleed nougats, and various old ingredients the twins had obviously hidden up here. They must have used this place as their hideout for conducting strange experiments. An old extendable ear that gave a squeak but did little else, doxy eggs, a set of glass phials in various sizes, and other bits and bobs were discovered by Hermione.

She decided not to take anything. However, upon her exit, she went back to the compartment and hesitantly took an old bludger bat. It could come in handy. The rest of the house had been thoroughly cleaned by the Malfoys and raided by Mundungus Fletcher clearly.

When she was not digging through closets and every nook and cranny, Hermione ate meals served by Kreacher, who had retained the habit of wearing a snowy white towel along his waist. One evening after eating a delicious meal of split-pea soup, crackers, and a glass of milk, Hermione settled into the sofa and fought against the bone-deep weariness that plagued her body. Eventually her eye-lids could bear the burden of keeping her eyes open no longer. She lost.

Her eyes opened to bright sunlight the next morning. Disoriented at first, it took her but a moment to realize she'd fallen asleep and instantly leaped out of the sofa, pulling down her robes. Malfoy was seated at his usual chair, making no effort to hide that he'd been staring at her. She recognized that look. It was the same look Ron had when he'd realized she was female in their fourth year. Hermione rolled her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair.

"How long have you been watching me?" She asked suspiciously, refusing to sit down.

"Long enough. I'm glad you're up. Go clean up and have some breakfast, and then meet me back here." He ordered.

Hermione did as he told her, all the while gritting her teeth and muttering murderously under her breath. Having to swallow her tongue and pride around Malfoy was beyond insulting, but she had to do what had to be done. After swallowing a breakfast of porridge and orange juice, Hermione dawdled on her way back to the sitting room where Malfoy avoided her. She had gotten used to the lack of his presence over the last few days, and was not relieved to find him back today.

"After attempting a repair of your memory yesterday and failing, I've realized that there's really nothing that I can learn from you. Your usefulness is indeed next to none." Malfoy said expressionlessly once she'd taken her usual seat across from him.

Hermione's heart pounded in her ears. Was this it? Was she going to die? A few days ago, she would have welcomed it. Now, hope had blossomed within her again. She couldn't just let everything fall through her fingers without any attempt to stop it. "A-are you going to kill me?" She asked, deliberately letting fear slip into her voice.

Malfoy's eyes widened. "Afraid, Granger?"

Hermione shrugged. "Somewhat."

"And you seemed so ready to die a few days ago. Shame."

"What are you waiting for?" She asked softly, looking at her lap. "I suppose you're finally going to be thrilled."

Malfoy waved a hand. "Why would I be thrilled? I'm not fond of mudbloods and what they represent, but nor would it fill me with glee to kill them off myself."

"But you don't mind if someone else does it?" Hermione asked, feeling like throwing up.

Malfoy swallowed. "Look, Granger. If I had wanted to hurt you, I would have done so already."

"But you can't, can you? Harry told me what He was using you for. I'm sure it wasn't easy having to perform torture on people for Voldemort." Hermione said, heart beating faster and faster.

Malfoy sneered. "Don't judge me."

"I'm not," Hermione said, not sure if she was lying or not. "I just know you aren't evil, that's all. Dumbledore knew that too. Selfish, yes. Arrogant and prejudiced, yes. Even a coward, yes—." At which Malfoy's eyes flashed up with anger, though he did not contest the claim. "But evil, I doubt that. There is no dividing line between good and bad, Malfoy. You and I are worlds apart, but there are shades of grey. You aren't evil."

Malfoy seemed to droop at these words. Then he stood and his nose was defiantly in the air. "You don't know a thing about me!"

"Malfoy-."

"That's enough, mudblood!" Malfoy spat, before walking out of the room. A minute later the front door slammed. He'd been so angry he hadn't bothered to floo home.

Hermione spent the remainder of the day pacing the hall and sitting room, refusing meals,and staring nervously at the fireplace. What to do, what to do? Had she done the right thing by challenging him? She knew Malfoy, knew what he was capable of. He was a coward, but also incredibly vindictive. Eventually, Hermione stopped the frantic motion of her hands and feet and sat at the kitchen table. In front of her was mouth-watering roast beef, potatoes, and green beans. She tried to eat but could not bring herself to take a bite.

After staring at her food for what felt like hours, she heard commotion in the hall. Kreacher said something along the lines of: "Yes Master." Then, footsteps approached her. Malfoy stood in the doorway, jaw clenched.

"I...apologize for snapping earlier m-...Granger." Malfoy said.

Hermione's jaw dropped and the fork she'd been using to pick at her meat clattered on to the table. Blushing, she quickly retrieved it. "Er." She said, unable to say anything else.

Malfoy rolled his eyes, then took a seat across the table from her. "I spoke to Severus," He said.

Hermione tried not to look flustered. "Snape?" She asked dumbly.

"Don't be thick," Malfoy muttered. "Anyway, he'd like to see you."

Hermione let out a squeak. "What does he want? Who else knows I'm here?"

"My father, the Dark Lord, and now Severus."

"What does he want?" Hermione repeated.

Malfoy shrugged. "I have no idea. He'll be here shortly, however."

Hermione stared at the food on her plate with disgust and pushed it away. She could do without food for today she decided. Her loathing for Severus Snape ran deep. He'd killed Dumbledore, and stood for everything that was corrupt in this world to Hermione. He was a major part of the reason that the resistance had failed. His lies and treachery ran too deep for Hermione to forget. Thus, it was with a major effort that she willed herself to calm down and not attack the fellow.

Snape entered the room with a flourish of his black robes, his long black hair swinging behind him. He did not spare anything a glance as he took a seat near Hermione, cold determination present on his face. He reminded her, as ever, of an over-grown bat.

"Leave." He told Malfoy.

"I"m not going to leave you alone with her. She's my prisoner after all." Malfoy sputtered.

Snape raised a brow. "Draco, do not be insolent. Leave. Go visit your mother in the countryside. She is beside herself worrying about her only son. Come back in an hour."

Malfoy looked murderous. "I was assigned to this job. You just want my glory again."

"I was under the impression that you hadn't gained any information from the girl." Snape replied in a bored voice. "And we both know that you aren't capable of using...more serious means if you can avoid it. Not fond of giving pain, are you Draco?"

Draco's expression turned even darker. "Go. If I learn anything, I vow to tell you and allow you to report to the Dark Lord yourself. He has begun to trust your father more. You need not worry for his life so much."

"I will protect my family." Was all Draco said before he turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him.

There was an uncomfortable silence. It ensued for a few minutes before Snape sighed and turned to Hermione. "I don't have much time. What I'm going to tell you will be surprising for you, and hard to accept. I will come back in a week's time once more. I'm now going to allow you a glimpse into my mind. Are you prepared?"

Hermione could only nod, though she was incredibly startled and confused at what had just occurred. She gasped as the sensation of an egg trickling along her brain spread until she had to shut her eyes. Then, the images began. She saw it all, the tale of the pale young boy who had a soft spot for a muggleborn called Lily. On and on the images went, flashing through her mind. It felt like hours later, but just minutes after it began, it ended. Hermione gasped as the sensation eluded her and she had her own thoughts back again.

"Y-you-." Hermione stared at Severus Snape, unable to believe herself. "How do I know those memories aren't implants?"

Snape retrieved a phial filled with hazy fluid. "Because the actual memories are right here. I would show them to you, but it would take considerably longer, and I don't have much time."

"H-Harry was the last Horcrux?" Hermione said with disbelief, her heart aching for that lost friend. "How horrid."

"He was the Horcrux the Dark Lord never intended on making." Snape said.

"D-did Harry know?" Hermione asked, taking a deep breath and composing herself.

"He suspected eventually, and before the final battle, I was able to show him my memories. He went into the forest and gave himself up knowing full well that he had to die." Snape shut his eyes.

A tear escaped Hermione's eyes and she didn't bother wiping it away. "The snake and the last piece of his soul inside himself are all that remain." Hermione breathed. "If only we'd been able to get to it, or him, but we hadn't been able to. Mcgonnagal was stunned, and the rest of us were so disheartened seeing Harry's body. We just...we failed him."

"There is still hope." Snape said firmly. "We will get the last few pieces of his soul. The only problems now are those of a political nature. The wizarding world is incredibly unstable and merely killing Voldemort will not stabilize much, for the society that is sustaining him is still very much present. We must wait for the right moment."

Hermione stared at this brave brave man, for whom just minutes ago she'd felt deep loathing. He loved Lily Potter so much. That a person could love another human being so deeply was astonishing but beautiful at the same time. Perhaps Dumbledore was right and love truly was the greatest force after all. Hermione doubted that for several reasons.

"You must get away." Snape told her.

"H-how?" Hermione gasped. "Where?"

"Never-mind where. Draco has been hesitant in telling me what he's learned from you. You've done a surprisingly remarkable job with your memory. But I know that he won't learn much. You'll just have to go somewhere. Go to America. Anywhere. Just get far away from here. Then send me an owl discreetly. We'll find the others who are lost. We have to be careful and plan."

Hermione felt her heartbeat accelerating. "Do we really have a chance?" She breathed.

Snape looked at her coldly. "Potter died to defeat Voldemort, Dumbledore did too. Not to mention the countless others who died for the very same reasons. As long as I'm alive, I will do what I can to finish this."

Hermione nodded. "I'm in."

"Good. Now, take this." He took out a glass phial filled with an unfamiliar liquid. "It is a dreamless sleeping draught. Give this to Malfoy, take his wand, and apparate out of here. Go North. Wait for further direction. If something happens to me, make your way to America and you'll be contacted from there."

"When?" She asked frantically.

"In a week's time. I will come again." Snape replied.

"What about Malfoy? Won't he g-get in trouble?" Hermione asked, fear gripping her.

"Granger, this isn't the time for foolishness. This is war."

Hermione grit her teeth. "Well excuse me if I still care about an innocent person."

"Draco is hardly innocent." Snape murmured. "Although he is in a difficult predicament."

"What can he do? If he left, his family would be murdered as punishment. If they all left together, they'd be marked for life and hunted down till they were all slaughtered." Hermione retorted, unsure of her reasons for defending the git.

"Isn't he your sworn enemy? Potter's biggest critic."

"He isn't my enemy. He's a stupid coward, who I don't like at all, who talks big." Hermione snorted.

Snape's brow furrowed. "Don't worry. I...feel concern for the boy as well. He will be alright. You are going to leave a false trail, one which Draco will follow, allowing the Dark Lord to believe he is being led to the lair of the remaining members of the Order. Lead him to a cave where the marks of fire and habitation will be clearly visible, then to a camping ground. Burn the place to give the appearance that everyone who was there died."

Hermione nodded, feeling as though she should write all of this down. "Alright. I understand."

Snape stood quickly. "I must go. See you in a week."

Hermione did not show him to the door. Instead, she sat immobilized as everything he said echoed in her mind. A strange nervous energy filled her, a sense of excitement. It wasn't over yet. There was a chance. She was pacing the kitchen again when Malfoy returned.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: If this doesnt get a review, I give up. :3**

**The Arcane Flight Part 4 **

"What did he want?" Malfoy demanded.

"The same as the rest of you." Hermione lied, willing herself to calm down.

"Then why are you pacing as if frightened?" Malfoy asked suspiciously.

Hermione stopped pacing immediately. "I was just thinking..."

Malfoy looked uncomfortable all of a sudden. He cleared his throat as a flush travelled across his face. "I'd like to talk to you." He mumbled.

"You're talking now." Hermione pointed out.

"I mean...I don't want to interrogate you anymore. We both know how useless that would be. I just want to...talk."

Hermione nodded slowly. Perhaps seeing his mother had unwound him a little. Hermione felt a pang as she thought of her own parents who did not recall they even had a daughter.

"In the sitting room? It's more comfortable." She said in a quiet voice.

Malfoy nodded his assent and they took their usual seats, albeit with a different feel, since he apparently was not going to be interrogating her. Hermione waited for him to speak first. His grey eyes appeared bright, as if he was fighting an internal battle. Eventually he spoke

"They're passing a new Wizarding law. They're making it official. Now, any magical child detected in the muggle-world born to muggle parents will be found and killed, along with the child's family. It's a way of preserving magical blood or something." Draco said.

Hermione paled and felt like puking, although she wasn't surprised. "Why are you telling me?"

"Y-you're the only one I know who probably won't threaten to kill me if I tell you that I find that disgusting," He admitted angrily. "It's not like you can tell anyone. You're...going to die too."

"And you're just going to watch?" Hermione asked softly.

Malfoy clenched fists, jaw working. "What can I do?" He demanded. "I'm not like you, or Potter. That Weasley never had any guts in him anyway. I won't sacrifice myself for some cause. That's who I am, Granger. And the Order's done anyway."

"Why are you torturing yourself? What did you expect? This is the world you signed up for." Hermione said, eyes flashing.

Malfoy chuckled bitterly. "This was not the world I signed up for. We're in it too deep, though. It's not possible to get out."

"Dumbledore offered you safety. You could have taken it."

"Dumbledore is dead!" Malfoy's eyes flashed. "And I never wanted this. I don't love mudbloods, they—pardon me—don`t belong in our world. But I don't want this world either. This isn't for me. This isn't what I believe in or support. Sure, if a mudblood or two died, back in the day, I would have laughed. But I'd never do this."

Hermione's gaze softened. "Well then you'll just have to live with it. And it`s the mentality you have that feeds and breeds this sort of situation."

"I'm not like you," Malfoy pleaded, ignoring her barb. "And there's no fight left."

"There's always hope, Draco." She said.

Malfoy looked up from staring at his hands sharply, meeting her gaze fiercely. "I feel crazy. For years now, I've done all this. I'm going crazy. I'm even talking to you about it. I used to cry like a pathetic girl in the bathroom at Hogwarts. You know that time Potter sliced me up? He found me crying like a sissy in there. So much pressure, and I never wanted any of it. But I had to."

"Um," Hermione said. "I can't say I can empathize, but I understand."

"After everything that's happened, to think that I'm sitting here with you." Malfoy muttered, and chuckled stiffly. "Who would have thought it?

"Not me."

"I really did think that Potter would get the Dark Lord in the end."

"Harry did what he could till his last breath." Hermione declared coldly.

Malfoy smiled. "This is hardly the time for school rivalry Granger."

Hermione sighed. "You're right."

"I'm a coward." Malfoy said after a moment of silence.

"Good that you see it." Hermione teased.

Malfoy laughed. It was a relieved laugh. "I didn't sell you out though, a year and a half ago. Back at the Manor."

"No you didn't." Hermione said uncomfortably. "Thanks, I guess."

Malfoy shrugged. "I couldn't." He said. "There wasn't much that I could do, or can do. But I couldn't do that."

Another minute of silence. "Would you like something to drink? Pumpkin juice maybe? I'm parched myself." Draco said.

Hermione shrugged. "Um, pumpkin juice is fine I guess."

Malfoy barely called Kreacher and the elf appeared in the room with a crack, eager to do whatever Master Malfoy asked. They waited in silence until Kreacher came back carrying a tray with two glasses. Hermione took one and sipped slowly.

"Well as long as I'm just bursting with all these things at you, I'll admit that I loathe you even more than I loathed Potter." Malfoy said with a laugh, continuing their conversation

Hermione nodded, not feeling hurt at all. She represented everything he hated. She was a reminder of all his failures. And he'd never liked her as a person much anyway. Hermione felt a huge weight lift up and off her shoulders that she hadn't known she was carrying. She finished her juice and then looked at Malfoy thoughtfully, wondering how his damned brain worked.

Malfoy drained his glass and stood. "Thanks M-...Granger. I feel better. I've been wanting to say those things for years."

Hermione could only nod. She felt excited from the day's events, passionate even as she felt the glass phial against her thudding her heart. But something changed suddenly. The heat was no longer one produced by shocking events. Her whole body was heating up and she pressed her thighs together, for at their apex was an even bigger heat. Hermione felt rather dazed.

"Well...I'd better go." Malfoy said, looking at her in amusement.

"If you like." Hermione gasped. She wondered if her face was reflecting how hot she felt.

Draco chuckled. "What I'd like is to bend you over and pound you senseless, but whatever."

Hermione's face turned crimson. "Excuse me?" She asked, outraged, though deep inside her, his words resonated. What was wrong with her? "You spiked my juice with a potion!" She gasped in outrage suddenly as it all clicked together.

"You heard me." Malfoy said with a smirk.

Hermione cleared her throat, feeling the desire to fan herself. "What brought this on?"

"Pent-up frustration, my loathing for you, anger at a lot of things-things you said, things others have done, anger at the world." Draco replied

"Well, I suppose that's how males translate aggression and passion. I understand the feelings." Hermione said diplomatically, but warily. Her eyes were beginning to droop and her vision felt hazy.

"Stop being the damned intellectual for once! Don't you feel angry too?" Malfoy asked, his eyes flashing. "Locked up in that cell, being abused. Don't you feel angry at the world? The last time this happened, I ended up accidentally smashing my father's precious vintage wine collection. I find fucking to be a lot more of a satisfying activity, particularly if you feel enough anger at the person..."

Her eyes widened. "Erm, well. I have a healthy sexual appetite, but I think I'll pass. In fact, I think you should leave now."

"C'mon Granger, no one will ever know. There's something so dirty about it."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "How can you even think about sex at a time like this?"

Malfoy grimaced. "I feel relieved after a long time. I want to celebrate. You can forget that you're going to die. I promise I'll fuck you nice and deep."

Hermione's eyes flashed. "Do you think I'm that desperate?"

Malfoy's eyes flickered across her heaving breasts. "You should be. Come on, a fuck is a fuck. It doesn't mean anything."

Hermione glowered. "What makes you think that's selling point?"

"Well it's better than pretending I'm in love with you. Forget the world for a bit, just let yourself have some pleasure. I know you aren't just a proud little bookworm. There's a lot more to you than pathetic Weasley."

"Don't," Hermione said, gritting her teeth. "Do not go there."

Malfoy flashed a smile. "See, you Gryffindors are so proud. The world isn't black and white, remember Granger? And I doubt you're the type to worry about reputation and sexual morality."

"Sexuality is a natural thing." Hermione raised her chin. "I am not ashamed of it." She knew Harry and Ron thought she was a prude, but that hadn't been the case. And with the state of the world after the War ended, Hermione had indulged in her fair share of physical stimulation. Though eventually she'd outgrown the phase.

"Then bend over." Malfoy leered.

Hermione stood. She glowered at Malfoy for a second, seething with anger. He was so...oh sod off she wanted to say. She held his gaze before grabbing the arm of the sofa, turning around and bending over. She felt mild embarrassment at this compromising position, but there was a thrill running through her. It had been so long. And that darned heat. She longed to explode from it. What on Earth was wrong with her?

This wasn't like her at all.

"Afraid, Malfoy?" She called out behind her. A gasp escaped her lips as she felt his hands on her ass, stroking through the fabric. Then he lifted the skirt of her robes upwards, sliding down her panties. Malfoy lined his cock against her entrance and slid in deeply to the hilt. A loud moan escaped Hermione's lips. He hadn't even taken a stitch of clothing off, and neither had she. The heat increased until Hermione felt she might combust from within its depths. She knew most of her lack of inhibition was caused by the potion, but that didn't mean it didn't feel good.

"Fuck." Malfoy groaned as he angled his hips and thrust deeply again. It wasn't graceful, dignified, or even sensual. It was raw, dirty, full of anger and frustration.

"You git." Hermione said, enjoying the loud sounds of his balls slapping against her ass as he drove in and out of the tight crevice in her body. After that, Malfoy did not slow down. Hermione buried her face against the fabric of the sofa. Her body was going to be bruised in the morning, but she didn't care. It was good. He held her hips and pumped his cock into her deeply as he said he would. Deep and hard. Unfathomable moans escaped her lips as his weight pushed her deeper and deeper into the arm of the sofa.

Suddenly he stopped.

"What are you waiting for?" Hermione asked angrily, feeling very much unlike herself.

Malfoy chuckled. "Tell me what you want."

"What? Just keep doing it."

Malfoy shifted his hips a little, causing her to moan. "Tell me what you want." He repeated.

"You Git. You're a weak coward outside of fucking aren't you?"

Malfoy grabbed her hair and pulled her head back so hard it hurt. "What do you want, Granger?" He asked harshly.

"Fuck. Me." She said in a low voice.

And fuck her he did. All the years of frustration and anger he poured into this one act. He pounded her small body into the furniture and just kept going. Everything he'd suffered in years, he poured into her body. And she couldn't stop crying out at the sensations. Occasionally he'd ask her what she wanted, and she'd moan for him to fuck her. He made her beg. And she begged prettily, angrily. She demanded more. She wanted to be fucked into oblivion. When he finally deepened his thrusts and repeatedly drove in to the hilt, she couldn't stop the spasms in her body. She came undone. The clenching of her body around him as she experienced release was his undoing as well, and he pumped into her until it oozed out and slid down her thighs.

Zipping himself up, Malfoy grinned.

Hermione forced herself to stand, feeling so lazy and relaxed. "Thanks for the fuck, Malfoy."

"Ditto, Granger. See you."

Hermione nodded vaguely before collapsing on to the sofa and drifting off into a sleep filled with dreams she'd never remember. Vaguely, she wondered what on Earth he'd put in her pumpkin juice.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Here it is! Review, people! Your words are the only pay I get! Thanks for all the reviews last time, they really inspired me!**

**The Arcane Flight Part 5**

Hermione was famished the next morning. She ate a hearty breakfast, finishing just in time for Malfoy's grand entry. He looked smug and full of himself, similar to the Malfoy she'd known at Hogwarts. Some things never changed.

When he stepped out of the fireplace, Hermione was already waiting for him and launched the vase she held at him. It shattered against his head with a mighty crash and shattered into a million intricate crystals, falling to the ground. A bead of blood tricked down his forehead.

"That was for spiking my pumpkin juice." Hermione said calmly.

Malfoy glowered at her before retrieving his wand cleaning himself and the floor off. "I see you've returned to your senses. However, I'm going to have to inform you that the thing I put in your drink can't act unless there's a strong existing sexuality. It was nice to see what a good fuck you were."

Hermione grit her teeth, feeling utterly revolted. "Stay away from me, Malfoy." She had never expected him to do such a thing to her. Hermione was not one to bested easily, but he'd gotten the best of her by spiking her drink. That much she could admit.

Malfoy shrugged. "Alright. In other news, tonight I'm going to see the Dark Lord."

"Ready to report your failure to him?" Hermione asked sardonically.

"Don't try me, Granger." Malfoy warned, crossing the room. He sat directly next to her. Hermione wanted to leap out of the couch in disgust, but she resisted the urge and stared straight ahead. He seemed to find staring at her a fairly productive activity, for that's what he did for the next five minutes.

"Take a picture." Hermione muttered.

"What was that?" He asked, his voice very close to her ear.

"Nothing at all."

"You know," Malfoy said. "It's a shame you have to die. You'd be a good fuck-toy or buddy or something. But there's no point delaying the inevitable."

Hermione sneered. "Yes it's a tragedy."

"I have to tell him there's no way that you can help us." Malfoy said. "I have to. He'll kill me if I lie to him. He'll know."

"As long as the great Malfoy Clan survives." Hermione said acidly, still sitting ram-rod straight and refusing to look at him.

"Can you blame me? Us?" He asked, his voice a little sad.

Hermione blinked. "There are worse things than death, Dumbledore said that."

"Well it's just great that dead is exactly how he ended up isn't it?"

"Don't even continue with that, Malfoy." Hermione warned yet again. She really wanted to tell him never to come back, but she couldn't do that. She had to wait a week. Just one week. Her heart beat fiercely. She had to stop him from going to the Dark Lord. "As for usefulness, you lot need to be more inventive. You could do a lot by keeping me alive, but you don't really think about that do you? Say you find the members of the Order...you could easily use me as a spy. Under the Imperius curse, if it comes to it. You could use me easily. But you wouldn't think of that."

Malfoy raised his brow. "My my, your desire to live is returning. Trying to _weasel_ your way out of your fate? Unfortunately, using you as a spy won't work. It'll be all too easy to wipe the Order out. All we need is a location."

Hermione shrugged casually, though she was beginning to get worried inside. What could she do? She'd have to leave early then, if it came to that. It was time to pull out the big guns. Turning slowly, she stared into Malfoy's grey eyes. "Just one week." She pleaded. "Can't I have one last week?"

Malfoy's eyes widened and his mouth did that baffled-fish thing where it opened and closed repeatedly. "Now's not the time to get all sad and beg, Granger." He said.

"Surely you won't deny me that. Will it be so terrible if you wait a week and give the appearance of interrogating me? You may just say that you were trying to be thorough and make no mistakes."

"I don't know." Malfoy stood and walked to the window. "I'll see what I can do."

She made a big show of sighing in relief. "Thank you. I don't know if I can ever thank you enough." Hermione said grandly. She'd always been a bit of a terrible liar. Malfoy looked at her suspiciously over his shoulder.

"Enough theatrics, Granger." Malfoy said coldly "You have your week."

The next two days passed without much fuss. Hermione saw neither hide nor hair of Malfoy, which was exactly to her liking. Though the sunlight outside looked promising, Hermione was stuck at the window peering out. The house wouldn't allow her to leave, and nor was she sure she wanted to risk it. She reminded herself that she'd be able to feel the sun on her skin soon enough. That the world was ending and Hermione was daydreaming about the warmth of the sun on her skin amused her momentarily.

She took her meals all alone at the table, and kept herself busy by reciting the plans to herself, considering various possible futures that could come about. Eventually, she even gathered the useful items she found throughout the house and hid them in the wardrobe of the room she was residing in, deciding she'd take them with her when she masterfully got rid of Malfoy. There were a few loopholes in the plans she had, which had her biting her lip. Though she had no option but to wait until Snape got in touch.

Hermione was sitting on the bed of the large room she'd previously occupied with Ginny, talking to Kreacher, when Malfoy finally came back. She did not notice him for several minutes, so wrapped up was she in the conversation. He'd cast a charm that made his movements utterly silent.

"But don't you ever _want_ to leave?" Hermione was asking passionately, trying to keep her voice normal.

Kreacher stood before her, his droopy nose raising an inch. "Kreacher will say once more that he wishes nothing but to remain in the Black house until his dying day and beyond!"

It was Kreacher who noticed Malfoy's presence first with a cry of, "Master Malfoy!" And a low bow.

Malfoy spared the old elf the briefest of glances. "You may leave Kreacher." With a crack, kreacher left the pair alone in the room.

Malfoy appeared that expressionless man she had met days ago once more. "I'd just like to apologize for what I did the other day." He said, crossing his arms on his chest.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. "Well, I don't accept your apology."

Malfoy nodded awkwardly. "You're well within your rights. I must admit, I'm not sorry about what transpired...just the means by which I accomplished it."

"Alright." Was all Hermione said, not having any desire in partaking in a conversation about Malfoy's regrets. "I still don't accept."

"Don't you want to know why I did it?" Malfoy asked, a touch annoyed. When she didn't reply, he rolled his eyes. "Mind if I sit?"

Hermione nodded, and he gratefully took a seat next to her on the bed. The bed sunk and then returned to its original position a moment later. She wished she hadn't been so amenable now. "Well, why did you do it?"

He shrugged. "It was mainly just selfish. I've been a bit of a recluse and well...I guess when you came back into my life like this, it's made me awaken a bit. I'd sort of fallen into this pit of...nothingness. Just a black pit. And when my desire to live returned with a fervor, I might have gotten a bit carried away and my-."

"-Your slimy, sick, and cunning ways got ahead of you." Hermione completed angrily.

"Well, if you want to put it like that." Malfoy shrugged noncommittally, raising Hermione's ire even further.

"What would Harry think?" Hermione moaned to herself aloud. "I try not to think about it at all. Better that way." She'd been desensitized to sex, rape, abuse, violence, war in a way she realized sadly.

Malfoy chuckled a bit. "I'll have you know that you enjoyed every bit of it."

"I wasn't in my senses!"

"Some would say that was the epitome of being immersed your senses." Malfoy replied amicably.

Hermione glowered. "Look Malfoy, let's just behave like adults here." She took a deep breath. "I'm not going to scream bloody rape or anything. I know the potion is easy enough to resist and often times has no effects on people. It's a weird time for me. The world is messed up. This is messed up. I'm messed up. And you've always been messed up. This is the least of my worries right now."

"If rationalizing helps," Malfoy allowed, amused by her clipped sentences. "Be my guest."

Hermione nodded and wrung her hands together, biting her lip before taking a deep breath and clearing her head. "Enough of this."

"How did you survive?" Malfoy asked a moment later. He lay back on the bed and Hermione straightened her back even more in response.

"What do you mean?" She asked quizzically.

"You know...how'd you get through all this? I can't imagine it was easy."

She closed her eyes. "No, it hasn't been easy. But you're the last person I want to talk to about how difficult my life has been."

Malfoy laughed and the bed shook slightly to her left. "Oh come off it, Granger. It's been a year and a half since I've last seen you, and around two and a half years since I properly tormented you. Let the past stay in the past."

"It doesn't change who you are." Hermione retorted.

"And what would that be?" Malfoy asked.

"A...a...bloody git. A coward!" Hermione replied.

"Alright, though we just have different priorities Granger. Didn't you say I'm not evil?" He asked softly.

"You aren't." Hermione replied. "But you aren't on my side either. You're a hypocrite."

"I don't relish being on this side of the line."

"Even though you've won?"

Malfoy raised himself on his elbows. "Won? What exactly have I won? This wasn't my war, Granger. You Gryffindors love your grand gestures and black and white way of seeing the world.I'd just as soon see the Dark—Voldemort dead as you! "

There was a deafening silence in the room as Hermione's chocolate gaze clashed with his grey gaze. The use of the dark wizard's name had rendered the pair speechless momentarily. Hermione broke the lull. "Good to know, but none of that really matters."

Malfoy laughed. It was a bitter sound. "Maybe not to you. Sometimes I just want to die. I know it sounds pathetic, but it's true. It-it's the fear in their eyes before I...kill them. Sometimes I want to do it fast so that it's easier for them but I have to carry it out for His amusement."

Hermione squared her shoulders. "Dumbledore offered you protection. He offered your whole family protection. You wouldn't have had to do those things. Accept the consequences of your own actions."

Malfoy shook his head maniacally. "What don't you understand Granger? Dumbledore is dead, so is Potter, you're about to die, and the rest of the Order—God knows what's happened to them! Wake up! It's easy to get lost in our own lives and the decisions we've made. It's easy to blame people for not being altruistic enough, for being selfish. I won't apologize for being selfish. In my world, it's every wizard for himself!"

"You must have lived a very sad existence then." Hermione said quietly.

"Don't be patronizing."

"I'm not. Your life hasn't been graced by friends and family or even love." Hermione stated. "You don't understand."

"And your life hasn't seen the lack of those things." Malfoy retorted easily.

"Fair enough." Hermione replied.

"Also, there's a lot more you don't understand. It's easy to vilify character traits you don't consider valuable in a person. I don't think blind courage is admirable or even willfullness. Self-preservation and putting yourself first are the epitome of strength to me. We're just different. But I'm not the scum you think I am." Malfoy said heatedly.

"Why are you telling me this? What does any of it matter?" Hermione demanded. "I can't make you feel better, Malfoy. I can't make this okay for you. Your sins are yours alone, so don't seek justification for your way of life through me."

Malfoy sighed. "Sometimes it's just hard to live with myself."

Hermione was silent a moment. She didn't know what to say to that. She decided to answer the question he'd begun the conversation with because she didn't think she could trust herself not to say something that would crush his feeble sense of self even more at that moment. "I've survived because I remind myself about love." She said hesitantly.

"Love?" Malfoy asked disbelievingly, though he slumped back on to the bed, evidently grateful that she'd decided to talk. It was a peace offering of sorts.

"Yes, Love. It's the strongest force in the world. Even when things became unbearable, I never stopped loving. I spoke to Harry in my mind. I thought of my parents. Of Ron. Of my friends. I thought of Dumbledore. Love is the reason why I didn't lose my mind in detention. It is what makes living bearable."

"Love," Malfoy tested the word. "Love. That's your big weapon, huh? I`ve seen your scars, Granger. You`re covered in them. Did they use you as a knife sharpener or something?"

Hermione nodded serenely. "You could say that."

Malfoy chuckled briefly. "I think I stopped loving when my mother died." He said casually.

"I'm sorry." She said quietly. He'd never expressed regret at the death of her friends, but she was the bigger person. "How did she die?" Hermione asked.

"My father killed her upon Voldemort's orders after the final battle." Malfoy said. "I watched it happen."

Hermione could only nod. She'd seen some horrors too, and been the victim of plenty horrific events herself.

"It's difficult for us too, the children of deatheaters. Most of us were raised with strange ideas, and even if we manage to fight them off, we're stuck. We then suffer for the decisions our families made. Remember Zabini and Nott? All dead. Being in the thick of action at an age when we should probably be extricating ourselves from clingy females isn`t desirable after all. They made stupid mistakes. Parkinson is still alive, but these days she can't lift her lips from the Dark Lord's hem."

Hermione almost wanted to tell him to stop. She didn't want to know; didn't care. But that made her feel sick to her stomach. "That's all very unfortunate." She managed to say in a thick voice.

"Well, it's been a lovely chat, truly. I have to go to a meeting though." Malfoy stood and smoothed down his robes.

"What sort of meeting?"

He smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

The door banged open in the thick of the night, causing a nameless object on a table to tumble on to the ground with a clatter. There was another shadow added to the room. This one moved to the bed, where a frightened female had just sat up and reached for the knitting needles she kept on the bedside.

Hermione blinked in the moonlight at the dark figure stalking into the room, the knitting needles ready in her hand. The candles in the room flickered on suddenly and Hermione expelled a breath she'd been holding upon seeing Malfoy's aristocratic visage. "You frightened the wits out of me!" Hermione exclaimed, pulling the blankets closer to her body. "I almost gouged your eyes out with..." She fell silent and slipped her needles under her pillow. "...with my fingers." She finished lamely.

Malfoy merely stood there, looking at her.

"What is it?"

"Nothing." He bit out.

"Something's happened." She said fearfully. "What is it? Does it have to do with the resistance?"

Malfoy began to pace the room frantically. "It's all of this. I'm sick of all of this. Sick of it. Do you hear me? No one understands. Just you. You're the last bloody person left and you're going to be dragon food in a few days!"

"Calm down, Malfoy."

"Shut up, Granger! I hate it. I killed three muggles tonight for no apparent reason. Just because. For entertainment! It-." He broke off, staring at his hands.

"So then don't do it." Hermione said.

He looked livid. "This isn't professor Umbridge's classroom, Granger. This is real life. And I didn't have a choice about any of this business. I had to do it for my family back then, now it's just my dad and I but I still have to persevere. And what will happen if I say no? It's not like it will stop. It's not like it'll encourage anyone to do the same. And if they all said no? What then? Nothing. He'd just replace us. We're expendable."

Hermione clutched her blankets to herself. "Malfoy, what do you want me to say?"

He stopped pacing and considered her. Running his hands through the pale hair on his head roughly, he sighed. "I don't bloody know. I don't know why I'm here. I'm going insane, I truly am."

"We're all a little insane," Hermione said, trying to ease him so he didn't do anything rash. "But just take a deep breath and calm down."

He walked up to the side of her bed, fell to his knees, and buried his head in her blankets. Hermione moved back an inch in surprise. She could feel the bed moving as he took deep breaths in and out. His voice came out muffled. "I can't take it."

A prickle of pity hit Hermione square in the chest. She thought of Dumbledore, who would have said that everyone deserved a second chance. Haltingly, her hand reached out, eventually resting it on Malfoy's head. That very head jerked up in shock quickly, sending Hermione's hand flying. "What are you doing?" He demanded.

Hermione flushed. "I was just...Oh, you bloody Git. I was trying to comfort you! Apparently there's no one left in the world who will do it but me."

He stared at her in shock for a second, before his face cleared and he lowered his head again. "Go on then." He replied, voice muffled.

And so Hermione Granger threaded her fingers through the blonde locks of one Draco Malfoy in the middle of the night as this male's body wracked with sobs that had been too long in the making. It was a scene almost too unbelievable to exist in any reality, but it did exist. And that meant anything was possible.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Y u guys no review?**

**The Arcane Flight Part 6**

Hermione spent the morning freshening up and changing into a new set of robes before seating herself at the table and thanking Kreacher for her breakfast. She ate slowly, savouring the flavour. Last night had been quite an ordeal for her emotionally foggy brain.

"Tell anyone, and I"ll jinx you to the grave and back." Draco Malfoy had said to Hermione Granger before smoothing down his robes and magically fixing his dishevelled appearance.

Hermione had rolled her eyes. "I'll take your secret to the grave, Malfoy." She'd jested.

Malfoy had blanched instead of laughing, and swept out of the room, leaving an exhausted Hermione who fell into a fretful sleep wrought with monsters and screams.

She now wondered what awaited her this fine day. Outside, it rained and this reminded her of her childhood. Snuggling up with a quilt on rainy weekends holding a book in one hand and a cup of hot cocoa in the other-those had been simpler days. That child did not know what awaited her. But she would not think along those lines now. This was a time to be patient and persevere.

She was perusing _Secrets Revealed: The Dark Arts and their Potency_, a nasty piece of work she'd found in an upstairs wardrobe, when Malfoy burst into the hall. He'd clearly just apparated onto the block and rushed inside. He wore a travelling cloak, which he promptly threw on a coat rack, looking like a statue to Hermione.

After he'd ordered Kreacher to get him a cup of tea, he finally acknowledged her. "Nice book you're reading there."

Hermione merely gave a wan smile and threw the book on to the coffee table, pulling her feet up. He always arrived with that cool, expressionless mask in place. But a few minutes around her lately and it fell. She didn't want to ask, but she knew he'd dump it on her anyway. When had she become his entertainer? "I trust you haven't had the best of days?" She finally asked politely.

Malfoy sighed. "You could say that." He took the tea that had just appeared before him and took a long savoury gulp. His hands were fine-boned, like the rest of his aristocratic features.

"What happened?" Hermione asked carefully.

"There were some rowdy men in a bar who began to act out, encouraging rebellion. Suffice it to say that they won't be doing that again. Or much of anything." Malfoy said harshly.

Hermione sighed. She couldn't understand him, no matter how she tried. "So people still bother to speak out?"

Malfoy nodded. "Occasionally." He set the empty cup of tea down. "But there's no real momentum to it. That's all gone."

Hermione rubbed her hands together. It was bizarre that she felt like comforting him. Her of all people, even after what she'd been through due to the likes of people like him! Cowards, lunatics, and racist gits, they were. Once again she wondered what had happened to the outside world in the six months she'd been detained.

"My father's encouraging me to get all this stuff sorted out. With you, I mean." Malfoy said stiffly. "He's nervous. Things have never been quite right for him after Askaban and he doesn't want me to do anything foolhardy."

Hermione tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "Well he doesn't have anything to fear. In a few days I'll be dealt with and you'll be free to spend all your free time rebuilding what's left of the world...and whatever else you do."

She knew he had given her time mainly for selfish reasons. He wanted this last link to a time that had been better for him. Someone he could drop the mask with. She felt guilty for what she was going to do to him, but not guilty enough.

Malfoy didn't respond to what she said. Instead, he stared at her. "Let's go out."

"Pardon me?" Hermione asked. "Out? Where?"

"Don't ask so many questions, Granger. Just stand up."

Hermione did as she was told. She straightened her hair and robes, looking at him stubbornly. "Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere I can have my wicked way with you." He replied tartly. "Now, come on."

Hermione stared blankly at the pale hand he held out. "Um."

"I don't have all day, Granger. Don't you want to step outside once more before parts of you are severed from your body?"

Hermione blanched, but reached a hand out and placed her much smaller one in his. He wasted no time. Taking his wand, he cast a disillusionment charm on her. It felt like warm trickles of water sliding from her forehead to her toes. Then, he grabbed her hand and pulled her noiselessly out of the house behind him. Once they'd crossed the barrier and Grimmuald Place disappeared, leaving only the houses on its left and right, he finally spoke.

"I'm going to apparate out of here." He said as a warning. Hermione could only nod before the familiar squeezing sensation ensued. When it finally eased, she opened her eyes to a surprising scene. The wind pushed her hair this way and that and her robes billowed around her legs as a stormy sea gazed back at her under the scrutiny of a cavernous grey sky. Her legs threatened to give way under the mighty rocks her feet were placed on.

Malfoy walked ahead of her, down onto more rocks where he sat and stared into the horizon. Hermione felt as though she'd stumbled into a scene from a muggle film about an angsty summer and two lost souls guided together by the open sea . Something stupid and cheesy with a terrible plot. Something unreal. But this was very real. Carefully watching her steps, she made her way down and sat beside him.

"My mother used to bring me here." He replied. "I never really knew why. I suspect it was because the sea had a calming effect on me despite the fact that I hate swimming. I threw nasty tantrums as a kid. There's a cottage not far from here that I used to spend a few weeks at in the summer at as well."

Hermione didn't think there was anything to be said, so she stayed silent.

"You're probably wondering why I brought you here." He said with a chuckle.

"I thought it was a last treat before I die." Hermione said with a smile.

"Somewhat. But-."

"—You just want to share it with someone? Yeah, I know." Hermione finished for him, unable to take her gaze off the ominous waves that crashed in front of her due to the wind.

"I don't know who I am anymore." Malfoy said with a sigh.

She felt as though he was having a conversation more with himself than her. As though she was an unwilling participant. "Yes you do. You're Draco Malfoy, wealthy pureblood extraordinaire."

He smiled wryly. "Yeah," Was all he said, however.

"Wanna know who I am?" Hermione joked.

"Maggot meat?"

Hermione scowled. "In a fashion," She admitted. "But I'm also the strongest person alive. That's me."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Are you now?"

Hermione nodded. "I'm strong. You know why? I don't believe strength is about never failing or being weak. Strength, true strength, is getting back up no matter how many times you fall into a pit-."

She didn't know what happened next. One second she'd turned her head right to stare at the water as she spoke, and the next she'd turned her head to look at him and he'd reached out and grabbed her cheek. She fell instantly silent. It was as though he'd placed his fingers against her lips to hush her, but he hadn't. He traced his fingers along the pale skin of her cheek reverently, eyes tracing his fingers as if he wanted to memorize every detail. Hermione froze as he stroked her with the back of his fingers gently. She wondered how many scars he was looking at

Hermione should have said something. Protests sprung on to her lips, and so did a mountain of reasons for why this was a disgusting thing, but they all died down. She could be scathing, she could cull this, but why ruin a moment of clarity? Today did not belong in the realms of yesterday. Granted, he was scum, but he wasn't beyond redemption. Instead, Hermione thought of Dumbledore and his capacity for kindness, and she did the unlikeliest of things. She smiled at Draco Malfoy, whose eyes widened before he returned it hesitantly.

The single moment stretched into eternity as the sky above them boomed loudly once more. The first raindrops fell from the heavens on to their very still bodies. They did not take notice of any of this, however, for their eyes were locked—seeing not the present, nor the past, but a reality that existed outside of time altogether.


End file.
